


Smells Like Teen Spirit

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Series: Dog Days of Summer [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Puns, Community: dogdaysofsummer, First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, boys are gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-18
Updated: 2005-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Snot’s always funny."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells Like Teen Spirit

Remus is lying in the hammock, minding his own business, when Sirius’s face appears above him, blocking out the sun.

“I’ve broken up with Elyse,” Sirius announces. His eyes are red-rimmed and his nose is running. Remus has never seen him so upset over a girl, and certainly not one he met on the beach a week ago.

“I’m sorry,” Remus says, though it comes out sounding more like a question, because actually, he’s not sorry at all. He didn’t like this one any more than he’s liked any of them. He doesn’t like the sly, cruel turn of Sirius’s mouth when he talks about them, and he doesn’t like the way his own stomach knots with jealousy and dislike whenever they are around. He thinks if Sirius found a girl like Lily, he could accept her, because Lily somehow makes James better. Elyse and Antonia and Maureen and the rest just make Sirius worse.

“No, you’re not.” Sirius climbs into the hammock and for a moment, Remus is sure they’re going to spill out of it, a tangle of long tanned limbs on the grass, and his mouth goes dry, but then the hammock rights itself and they sway, snug and lazy, between the trees.

Remus doesn’t think he’s been that obvious, but Sirius reads him better than anyone, so maybe he has been. He shrugs, sort of, as much as is possible while lying in a hammock with thirteen stone of Sirius Black on top of him.

“You look as if you’ve been crying,” he says, “and I’m sorry about that.” Sirius rubs his face against Remus’s chest, shoulders shaking, and Remus automatically wraps his arms around him, concerned. “Are you drunk?” Sirius occasionally has crying jags after several shots of firewhisky, but Remus can’t smell any liquor on him.

Sirius looks up and though his eyes and nose are streaming, his mouth is wide and bright with laughter. “No, you prat. I’m allergic to her stupid perfume.”

“You could have just asked her not to wear it anymore.”

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” Sirius rolls his eyes, then buries his face against Remus’s chest again, still laughing. Remus wonders why Sirius isn’t squirming away from his embrace, and, _oh_. “Are you wiping your nose on my shirt, Padfoot?” Remus tugs at his hair in mild reprimand.

“Maybe.” Sirius’s voice is muffled and Remus catches his breath at the feel of Sirius’s lips moving against him through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. “You smell good, Moony.”

“I--mmph--" He is cut off by Sirius’s salty, sticky, phlegmy mouth covering his. He shoves Sirius away, not amused, though he knows Sirius is just taking the mickey, and this time they do tumble to the grass in a heap. “S’not funny, Sirius.”

“Snot’s always funny,” Sirius answers and Remus groans, wiping his mouth on his arm.

Sirius cleans himself up with a quick spell and then pounces on Remus again, pinning him to the grass. “Let’s try this again,” he murmurs against Remus’s jaw, and before Remus can stop him, they are kissing again. This time it’s not gross or sticky, but warm and exciting as Sirius flutters his tongue against the roof of Remus’s mouth, and he feels like the sun has exploded in his chest. “Mmm, yeah,” Sirius says when he pulls back.

Remus ducks his head, feeling his mouth curl into a foolish grin, and says, “I promise I won’t wear any awful perfume.”

“Good,” Sirius says, and kisses him again.


End file.
